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Hermione hates auror missions. She hates the fact alone that her husband is an auror. At eighteen she thought it was crazy and now at twenty-two her opinion hasn’t changed in the slightest. Of course, they’re needed, but did it really have to be Ron?
He’s skilled and has experience and knows how to duel but it’s unbearable to have to sit in their flat with just herself and Crookshanks thinking about all of the horrible things that could be happening to him at this very moment. Distractions like books didn’t help because they’d mention violence and Hermione would automatically consider the fictional violence happening to him in some way or another.
She’s hardly able to eat the whole time he’s gone. She also thinks that he’s begun to notice this—but he probably relates it to her lack of cooking skills and not that fact that she gets nauseous every time she makes an attempt.
He should be coming back tonight. And that’s should . There’s been times where he’d be days late with no word. It was days of her constantly waiting in the sitting room where she can see the fireplace and the front door in case he comes in either way.
The television flickers and there’s a light echo of thunder. Crookshanks purrs low then stretches his pudgy legs in all different directions. She sniffs and tucks her legs tighter under her body. It’s June and she’s freezing but if he was here she wouldn’t be.
Her mind does this often. It starts this cycle of things that wouldn’t happen or would happen if Ron was home. She’d be in bed by now, she wouldn’t have to find a way to clean that saucepan she’s sure she ruined a few days ago, she wouldn’t be so tired, she would’ve finished that appendix at work today, she wouldn’t have forgotten to get Crookshanks food, she would’ve felt good enough with him by her side to go to whatever little get together Hannah had invited her to last Saturday.
The credits for the rerun episode of whatever show had been on rolls, letting her know it’s now midnight, and she turns down to Crookshanks.
“Come to bed with me?” she asks, feeling silly for talking to her cat. “I’ll carry you.”
Hermione scoops the overgrown cat into her arms and stands. She opens the bedroom door with one hand then sets him down at the foot of the bed where he immediately settles in. After a deep sigh she remembers that the only way to get warm is to be under the covers so she moves to the top of the bed and peels back the sheets. Crookshanks pops his head up and looks toward the room’s exit.
She turns her head to look at him and then she hears stumbling and the voice of Ron cursing. Her feet move before she can realise that they are, throwing the bedroom door wider than it had been and stomping through the flat to the fireplace. He’s peeling his navy blue robe off and tossing it onto an armchair. He turns around and strides over to her.
Ron lifts her slightly off her feet for a split second before sitting her back down. She pushes herself up on her toes to kiss him and drapes her arms over his shoulders. He smells like sweat and a twinge of blood. The hint of iron and his silence don’t comfort despite the fact that they’re in each other’s arms.
“Are you okay?” She pulls her face out of his chest then moves her hands to the side of his face. His hair is getting long again.
He glances down at her for a brief second, then back up at something above and to the right of her head. He shakes his head, “I’ll tell you later.”
“Ron,” she pushes the fringe away from his face.
“Need to shower,” he mumbles. “I’ve got someone’s blood on my hands.”
For a moment her heart skips a beat until she realises that he means this literally. His hands hadn’t been on her since he picked her up. He leans back down and kisses her forehead.
“I’ll come with you,” Hermione offers. “I was going to shower in the morning anyway.”
He smiles at that. Hermione turns around and begins walking toward the bathroom to the sound of Ron’s shoes hitting the floor behind her. She leaves the bathroom door open for him as she turns on the water and pulls up the tab for the shower head to start spraying. She peels the Chudley Cannons t-shirt off of her top half then by the time she’s bending down to slide her underwear down Ron’s padding in behind her then closing the door.
His belt is already undone and his shirt is halfway untucked. She wants to watch him undress completely, savour the way he reaches behind his back to take off his shirt instead of just grabbing the front side hem, the way new freckles appear with every new centimeter of his skin becoming exposed. Ron places his wand on the counter and strips off his trousers then his pants. He leans against the wall to tug off each of his socks.
Hermione turns around since her show is over and steps into the tub. The water is at a temperature that’s fine for her but Ron will probably complain about it being too hot. She can feel his presence behind her and then his hands on her hips.
She glances down and sees the blood in his nails. She grabs his hand and begins rubbing it off with the help of the running water. A lot of times curses and jinxes didn’t involve blood. Hermione tries her best to not think about where it came from, instead reminding herself that at least it’s not his.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she laced her fingers through his. “I can tell it’s bothering you. A lot.”
He’s silent for a moment, “The mission’s still on,” he sighs. Hermione’s brows furrowed in confusion. Her heart falters for a second. “They made me leave.”
She releases his hands and turns around to face him.
“It was this kid, he’d been fucking… Merlin, they don’t know what happened to him, that’s why the Muggle police got us involved,” he runs his hands through his hair and she can tell that he’s getting choked up. “They thought it had been a stabbing but they had Muggle cameras up and all they got was the kid falling down. Me and Harry got there before the—the Muggle doctor’s that drive, whatever they’re called so I started to try and heal him but then the Muggles got there and—”
Her hands had slowly slid up from his shoulders to his face, cupping each of his cheeks that were wet despite not being in the way of the shower’s spray. She doesn’t know what to say but her eyes trail back down to his midsection then to the side to look at his hands. She lets go of his face and takes his left hand between both of hers.
“I think I want to quit,” he croaks. When she stops again to look up at him, he’s already looking down.
“What?”
“I want to quit,” he sniffs. “I can’t do it. I know you hate it too.”
“You need to think before you make up your mind,” she goes back to rubbing circles into his stained skin. “Your mind is just still on whatever just happened.”
She can see him shaking his head in her peripheral, “No, I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Before training was over. Just didn’t want to quit then without ever actually doing the job. And now I get severance.”
He seems adamant, really, and Hermione can’t say she’s against the idea of it. She had never outright said how much she fears for him when he’s out doing God knows what but he could probably tell from her reactions to finding out he had a mission coming up or the way she had acted years ago when Ron told her about the offer he had received just months after the war had ended.
She drops the hand that she’s cleaned and picks up the other one. She’s still at a loss for words and doesn’t know what to say about him wanting to quit his job. Well—she does know what she wants to say but she doesn’t know that encouraging him is appropriate. The hand she’s working on now has less blood than the other. Hermione finishes it much faster than the other one, perhaps because she’s scrubbing harder to stop herself from speaking.
Before she releases it she stares down at the swirl of scars that haven’t faded over several years. She runs her finger along one up until his wrist where it would become obvious as to what she’s doing. The back of her hair is soaked from the constant spray of water as well as flattened. Hermione drops his hand and holds his face again, standing on tiptoe to kiss him on the lips.
“Let me wash your hair,” Ron tells her, pushing her shoulders down and guiding her to step backwards. “That’ll… take my mind off of things.”
Hermione laughs as she steps into the full spray of the water, feeling the water drench her hair and flatten it against her back. The idea of not having to do it herself is appealing. His hands run into her scalp and then over her forehead to push her wet bangs out of the way. He takes them off of her and reaches for her shampoo bottle, squeezing a fair amount into his hand, setting the bottle back down, and he begins running it in her hair.
She closes her eyes and lets Ron work it into her. It relaxes her. The feeling of his long fingers rubbing in circles, grabbing more and more hair with each pull until most of it sits on her head. Her shoulders feel less tense and her head less heavy. He guides her back into the water and starts the process of rinsing the suds out of her hair. It begins falling down her back again with his hands rubbing her hair in different directions to make sure it’s all out.
Her eyes open slowly, looking down at their feet, and she looks back up at Ron while trying to ignore his half hard cock that’s tempting her into things they’re probably both far too tired for. He takes his hands out of her hair and starts looking for what she’s sure is the conditioner. He finds a bottle and pours its contents in his hand.
“Turn around?”
She does and he picks up all of her hair, lathering it from where it hangs at her neck to the very ends. Her hair appears even longer with it being wet. When he releases it against her back it reaches just above her arse until he pulls it aside and drapes over her shoulder so it hangs in front of her. Hermione reaches behind her body for Ron and he pulls her back against his front. He kisses the temple that her hair wasn’t pulled to and circles his arms around her sternum. Her heart feels swollen.
“I love you,” she turns her head to the side that his face hovers next to and bumps her nose to his chin.
“I love you more,” he replies quietly.
Hermione breaks out of his hold and turns around. She puts her arms around his neck and her lips back against his. He reciprocates enthusiastically, finally, and places his hands on her hips, holding her from swaying at first until one comes up to her face.
“This can’t be comfortable for you,” Ron pulls away for a laugh, looking down at her feet where she stands on tiptoe. “Do you want me to hold you against the wall?”
She shakes her head, not because she’s scared of where that will lead but being off of her feet in a slippery shower with only a wet Ron holding her up sounds terrifying, “We’ll get out.”
She kisses his jaw and then the column of his neck instead of pushing back up for his lips. He still tastes like sweat because he hadn’t actually cleaned himself yet but she prefers this to the taste of soap. Hermione digs her teeth into the muscle between his shoulder and the base of his neck. One of his hands slide into her clean hair, cradling her head as she starts going even further down to his chest until she drops to her knees.
Hermione reaches for his cock first, giving it a long stroke and looking up at him to see his reaction. After seeing him shudder and his eyes close she glances back down at the cock in front of her. She strokes it again before she starts licking the sensitive tip. His left hand sits on the top of her head, guiding her gently with the other propped against the wall.
Her hand wraps around the base of him and she fits the rest of his cock into her mouth. He curses above her and his hand tightens slightly in her hair before it loosens back up when he settles with the new sensation. She begins bobbing her head slowly, moving her hand down more and more with each movement of her head to take more of him.
Ron starts grabbing the top half of her hair and pulls it back into his hand. She groans her appreciation for him, sending vibrations right through his member. Her left hand hangs onto his hip and the other still on his cock. She pulls off and lifts it up, kissing the underside all the way down to his balls where she takes one into her mouth while stroking his cock.
“Fucking shite, ‘Ermione, fuck,” he gasps after a sharp intake of breath.
She kisses a stripe back up to the tip of his cock and starts taking it in and out of her mouth again. The hand that had been holding him moves down to his balls, squeezing them periodically but focusing more on what her mouth is doing.
Hermione pulls off and kisses the tip again. She runs her tongue along the slit and collects his salty precum. Widening her mouth back open she takes him all the way down, slowly, until her forehead is against his stomach and she has to focus hard on her breathing so she doesn’t choke. She pulls off of him, breathing deep and finally coughing slightly.
He lets go of her hair and starts pushing it back again. He strokes it back into the water. Hermione can feel it getting heavy again while she regains her breath.
“Don’t think I’m gonna be able to cum twice tonight,” Ron pushes her bangs back.
“Is that your way of saying you want to go ahead and shag?” she looks up from his cock.
“No,” he chuckles. “It’s my way of telling you the truth. And I’ve hardly touched you. I feel horrible.”
“Oh, God forbid I go down on you for once,” she rolls her eyes and turns around to turn the shower off.
Ron grabs her hand, tugging her up and stepping over the wall of the tub before waiting for her. She nearly drags him, naked and soaking wet, out of the bathroom and into their bedroom. They’d have to deal with it in the morning or whenever they were able to, as well as their bed that Hermione lays on with her drenched hair dripping all over the mattress. He closes the door as he enters and climbs over her body.
“You seem a little impatient,” he comments, leaning down to nip at her breasts.
“Because I am,” she threads both of her hands through his usually red hair that’s been turned copper from the water. “I think you’re seriously underestimating how familiar I’ve become with my right hand over the past few days.”
He brings his head up from a nipple, “Wish I could’ve seen that.”
“Wouldn’t dare to waste my time getting myself off when you’re right here,” Hermione props herself up on her elbows.
Ron sits up and pulls her body so that the back of her thighs are against the top of his. His cock pokes at her entrance and his hands tighten on her hips.
“How do you want this?” he rubs lazy circles into her hip bone with his thumb.
“Hm,” she thinks for a second. “Let me roll over.”
“Wow, fancy tonight,” he releases her from one hand and helps her to flip over onto her stomach with the other.
“Oh God, shut up or you will be seeing what my hand and I can do,” Hermione tries her best to be serious at first but can’t help but laugh by the end. Ron is too, but as soon as it fades she feels his hand grope her backside and the weight of his cock resting against it.
“Ready, love?”
She nods and feels him gently push at her entrance, working his way in and muttering curses as he goes. When he bottoms out he gathers all of her hair and throws it over one shoulder before putting both of his hands on her hips. Once he starts to move again Hermione whines and clutches the sheets in her fists so hard her knuckles turn white.
The speed begins to gradually increase with each thrust. The angle and depth that he’s able to get from behind her shaking embarrassingly early. Her arms bend as she lets herself fall. She hears something other than Ron’s thrusting and the bed creaks and she realises he’s pulling a pillow down for her. She lifts her head and pulls it under.
“Feels so good,” he grunts, leaning over and pressing his hands over her head. “You’re so fuckin’ good.”
Hermione looks over her shoulder to see how close he’s gotten. She leans into him, just inches away, and he leans down to kiss her. She moans into his mouth and tries to stay with him when he pulls away. The sound of their skin slapping fills her ears.
Suddenly she can feel his stomach against her back. His right arm snakes under her and pulls her flush against him, bringing her upright with his face by hers and his mouth by her ear. Her eyes flicker over to him to see that they had been boring into her skin. She can feel her jaw hanging open and hears the noises coming out of her mouth before she knows what kind of sounds she’s making.
“Ron,” she gasps out. She moves her hand around and starts searching for his around her shoulder. “Oh my God.”
He moves the hand that she had reached for, and hers, to her stomach and presses down. She nearly buckles over and accidentally starts digging her nails into her own skin. Ron pushes her hand out of the way and presses himself.
“Just relax,” he says as calmly as he can through his ragged breath. “Just lean against me, ‘Mione.”
She whines at the nickname but then does as he says, relaxing against his chest and placing her hand over where his sits on her stomach. The speed of his thrusts start getting faster again. Soon her body is bobbing with the force he uses on her.
Her grip on his hand tightens as she searches for something else to hold on to with the other. She finds the forearm of the arm wrapped around her body. Under the palm of her hand she can feel the thick scars on his skin. Hermione turns her head to face his jaw, watching the focused look in his eyes as he looks down at where he’s fucking her.
He notices her eyes on his skin finally as he turns his head to grab her lips between his own. She cries out into his open mouth.
“Gonna cum,” she mumbles against his lips.
There are a list of things they both know about each other when it comes to sex because four years, especially when you’re a young adult for all of them, gives you plenty of opportunities to learn what the other likes. They both know Hermione cums the hardest when Ron is filling her from behind and that she can get loud.
Ron moves the hand from her stomach and to her other shoulder to create an X over her chest and hold her tight against his body. He keeps her sitting upright against him despite the way her body has begun to tremble and attempt to fold in on itself.
He uses his hands on her shoulders to help bring her back down after each thrust and she seems to be thoroughly enjoying this. Her still soaked hair has now fallen mostly into her face.
He feels the first quake of her walls from inside. He keeps the same pace he had and waits for her mouth to drop open, then it does, and she’s making sounds that should disturb their neighbours. Hermione tries to arch her back but can’t due to his hold on her.
Ron feels his own orgasm creeping up so he doesn’t slow down. Her nails dig into his forearms and her head is thrown over his shoulder, hair sticking to him and her face. Hermione finally stops trembling when Ron’s last few spurts trickle inside of her.
He starts unwrapping himself from around her and helps her to lay down on the bed. He throws himself down beside her.
Hermione turns her head to face him, opening her eyes and staring at him sideways. Her chest still rises and falls a bit rapidly.
“Think I’m gonna stay home from work tomorrow,” she mumbles half way into the pillow. “Write in sick.”
“Write out the night after your husband gets home? You used to try to not make it obvious, you know.”
“They know we’re married and that you’ve been gone for days,” she rolls over onto her back. “And neither of us are clean.”
“That’s your fault,” he crawls closer to her. She reaches out for him and pulls him into her chest. “You knew what you were doing when you came with me.”
“Oh, no I didn’t,” Hermione rolls her eyes. “ You got hard.”
“You were less than foot away from me, completely starkers, and then you started moaning when I was washing—”
“I did not moan—”
“Yes you did.”
She huffs and doesn’t reply. She doesn’t remember doing such a thing but there’s a chance it did. Ron manoeuvres an arm between her back and the mattress. He kisses her collarbone and darts his tongue out against it.
“Left my wand in the bloody bathroom,” he grumbles against her skin.
“I don’t imagine you’ll need it,” she runs her hands through his hair. “I’ve got mine if we do.”
He goes silent for a second and kisses her skin again. “I was serious about quitting, you know. I don’t know what I’d do but I’d find something useful.”
“Alright,” she inhales. “We can talk more in the morning. I was tired enough before all of this.”
“Oh you were tired?”
More laughter, gentle and from both of them. Ron props himself up on one elbow and leans over her face. He kisses her, pulls away for a second, and then kisses her again as if he decided he hadn’t got enough. Hermione pulls him down so that he lays completely on top of her.
She enjoys the feeling of his flushed and moist body against hers. He smells like what he had washed her hair with, sweat, and sex. As repulsive as it should be she couldn’t keep herself from inhaling the air around his hair. She strokes it back from his forehead again. Her fingers draw lazy lines along his back and she can feel his body get heavier as he falls asleep against her chest.
Hermione considers that they may never have to do this again: the late nights, the ritual of her asking if he’s okay and him lying, collapsing into the bed after a long reunion. Waiting at home for him has always been unbearable and painful but the idea of not having to do it anymore makes her feel like she can breathe again. Even if her senselessly tall husband is crushing her ribcage right to the amount of which it’s bearable without being painful.